Empty
by Neuropsych
Summary: Jack can't pull himself together. Can Sam help? Read and Review please! (NOW FINISHED!)
1. Default Chapter

DICLAIMER: I don't own anything! So don't sue me (  
  


* * *

  
Empty  
  
It had started to rain, but he didn't notice. His shirt was plastered to his body, his jeans were sagging on his lean frame with the extra weight the cold water added, but again, he didn't notice. There was a beer bottle in his hand, but it was empty. It'd been empty when he'd brought it out to the deck and sat down, but he hadn't noticed. He simply sat in the cold rain, staring off into the steadily darkening sky but not seeing anything. He was beyond noticing. And beyond caring.  
  
Carter found him like that much later that evening. It had been a terrible week for the Major, and she hadn't seen her CO during the entire time, which just made it that much harder for her to handle her pain. The Colonel was a stable part of her life. Someone she'd always looked for when she was hurting, and he hadn't been there for her. Not this time. And that had hurt almost as much as Daniel's death. So that evening, sitting at her house and staring at the walls, hoping that this was all a bad dream and knowing better, she'd finally decided that she needed to pull herself together and force him to talk to her before the rift between the two of them became too much to overcome. If it hadn't already.  
  
She'd driven to his house, trying to decide what she would say to him, and how he would respond. When she saw that all the windows in his house were dark, she almost didn't stop. Maybe he was already in bed? It wasn't really that late, but his truck was sitting in his driveway, so she was pretty sure he was home. She sighed and pulled up to the curb. She'd come this far already, there was no sense turning around. If she woke him up, well, he was already distant with her, and what more damage could she do to their relationship? Besides, maybe he was watching TV in the dark.  
  
She knocked lightly on the door, feeling the cold trickle of rainwater as it found its way under her coat and down the back of her blouse. She shivered. There was no answer to her knock, so she knocked a little louder. Still no answer. Just for the Hell of it, Carter tried the door, and was amazed to find it unlocked. She turned the knob and opened the door, letting herself in and closing it quietly behind her. If he were asleep she'd just let herself out and lock the door behind her. No harm done and she'd come back and talk to him tomorrow. If he were awake, he'd probably be pretty pissed at her for just barging in, but she didn't care.  
  
She turned on the light, expecting him to come out of his room, or up off the couch swearing up a storm, but it didn't happen. The state of his living room caused her instant concern. There were clothes strewn about, and a few dishes, and a pizza box. And beer bottles. A lot of beer bottles. It was definitely unlike the Colonel to be so messy, and Carter felt a stab of fear that something was wrong.  
  
The fear intensified when she walked into his kitchen, which was even messier than his living room had been. More dishes. More beer bottles. Clutter everywhere, and a broken glass shattered on the floor next to the far wall, looking for all the world as if it had been thrown against the wall in a fit of anger.  
  
"Colonel?" She called, walking down the hall and looking into his bedroom. It was empty and equally chaotic. Bedding was strewn everywhere, and the closet had been ransacked from the clutter that was spread through out his floor. Then she saw his side arm. The gun was sitting on his nightstand, next to a small handful of shells. Carter walked over and picked it up, checking to see if it was loaded. It was, and the safety was off.  
  
"Jack?!" She was frantic, now. He'd never have left without his gun. Never. She ran out of his room and looked into the bathroom, then the extra bedroom, and finally came back out into his kitchen, where she noticed for the first time that the screen door to the deck was open, even though the glass door was closed. Clutching that final hope, she opened the door and looked out onto the deck. And saw him sitting there. He was in a chair with his bare feet propped up onto the railing of the deck. A beer bottle was in his hand, and he was staring off into nothing.  
  
"Colonel?" She walked over to him, but he didn't respond. He didn't even look up at her when she stopped beside him. He was drenched, though, and shivering. But he didn't seem to notice that, either.  
  
"Colonel? You soaking wet, Sir." God, he had to be freezing.  
  
"I know, Carter. Go away." The words hurt. But the dead tone in his voice scared her, and she shook her head.  
  
"No, Sir. We need to get you inside and warmed up. You're going to catch the flu if you stay out here any longer."  
  
"I'm fine. Go home." Again the dead voice.  
  
"Please, Sir? You're really endangering yourself being out here like this."  
  
"I don't care."  
  
She could tell it was true. But she did care, and she reached down and took the empty bottle of beer from his hand, noticing just how very cold his fingers were as she did so.  
  
"God, Jack, you're freezing." She said.  
  
"It doesn't matter, Carter," O'Neill said. "Go home, please?"  
  
"Come inside and get warmed," the Major replied.  
  
"No."  
  
She wasn't sure what was wrong with him, but she wasn't about to leave him alone like that. Instead she reached down and took his hand, and pulled, trying to drag him to his feet.  
  
Much to her surprise, he rose up off the chair, still not looking at her, but it was a start.  
  
"Let's go inside, Sir."  
  
"I don't want to go inside, Carter."  
  
"I know. But I do." She kept hold of his hand and took a step towards the door, giving him two options; come with her willingly or force her to drag him in behind her. Luckily for both of them, he followed her.  
  
"What the Hell is wrong with you?" Sam asked as she closed the door behind them. He stood quietly in the middle of the kitchen, water dripping off him onto the floor and didn't answer her. He didn't know what was wrong, and didn't care. All he wanted was to be left alone.  
  
Realizing that he wasn't going to answer her, Carter sighed and dragged him down the hall and into his bedroom.  
  
"We have to get you warm, Sir," she said, talking more to fill in the void that his silence was creating. "I'll be amazed if you're not already sick, as much as you're shivering. How long were you out there, anyways?" She didn't expect an answer, and didn't receive one. All he was willing to offer her was silence.  
  
She let go of his hand and reached down, grabbing up a pair of sweats and a t-shirt off the floor, then pulled him into the bathroom and started the shower. Making the water as warm as she dared, she pushed him into it, still fully clothed. He didn't resist, just standing there under the warm spray, eyes closed, wishing the world would go away.  
  
She left him in the shower until the warm water started to turn cool, then pulled him out and pulled the soaked t-shirt over his head. He didn't say anything, although he was watching her now. She expected him to step away when she reached for the buttons on his jeans, but he didn't do anything, and he didn't say anything, so she unbuttoned them and pulled them and his underwear down and helped him step out of them. Naked and still shivering, although not as hard as he had been, Jack stood silently while his 2IC dried him with a towel and then dressed him in the sweats and the dry shirt.  
  
"We'll put you to bed, now, Sir," Carter said, and pulled him into his bedroom once more. For the first time, Jack pulled his hand from hers and shook his head, looking at her instead of through her.  
  
"I don't want to go to bed, Carter," he told her. How could he tell her that every time he closed his eyes all he saw was Daniel? Daniel was dead, and it was all his fault. He was the leader of SG-1, and it was his responsibility to bring them all home safely. And he'd failed. Nothing mattered anymore. All he felt was empty.  
  
"Too bad," she replied, pulling all the blankets off the bed and pushing him down onto it. He went, even though he didn't want to, and she covered him warmly with a blanket and a comforter.  
  
"Stay there, Sir. I need to go make a couple of calls."  
  
He didn't have any intention of going anywhere. He didn't want to go anywhere, or do anything. Jack closed his eyes and tried to close out the world.  
  
Sam waited until his eyes were closed, then reached over and pulled his Beretta off the nightstand, reached down and grabbed up another pair of sweats and a t-shirt, and walked silently out of the room.  
  
She quickly dried off and changed into his sweats and t-shirt, both of which were too big for her but were better than her own wet clothes. Then she went into his living room and called Janet, and explained what had happened so far.  
  
"I don't know what's wrong with him, Janet," she said softly as settled herself on his couch, the phone in one hand, and his gun in the other. She had no intention of leaving him alone with it in the state he was in.  
  
"Has he said anything?" Janet asked, the concern in her voice obvious.  
  
"Well, let's see... I got a couple of 'It doesn't matters', a few 'I don't cares', and a couple 'go away, Carters'. Does that count?"  
  
"He told you to go away?"  
  
"More than once."  
  
"Is he running a fever?"  
  
"I'm not sure, Janet. He's been out in the rain for God only knows how long, and his entire body was still chilled when I put him to bed. You should see this place, it's a mess."  
  
"I'll be right over, Sam. Don't let him get out of bed."  
  
Sam put the phone back on its charger, and then emptied the shells from O'Neill's gun. Unsure of what to do next, and restless, she walked back into Jack's bedroom to check on him. 


	2. Loneliness

He was asleep. His eyes were closed, anyways. The shower and blankets were doing their job; he'd stopped shivering. Sam walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, careful to avoid disturbing him, and looked down at her CO. His face was flushed, now, and there were more worry lines than there had been only weeks before. Even apparently asleep, he seemed to be tense, as though plagued with haunted dreams, and Sam shook her head silently as she reached out to touch his cheek to check for a fever.  
  
Jack wasn't asleep. He hadn't slept in days it seemed. He just couldn't bring himself to take the energy to open his eyes. Even when he felt her sit on the bed and he knew she was close. He found he didn't care. He felt her hand touch his cheek gently, but didn't open his eyes. He couldn't. Not even for her.  
  
"What are you doing, Carter?" He asked. Not that he cared. He just wanted to be left alone.  
  
"You're burning up, Sir."  
  
"Good. Go home."  
  
"Sir..."  
  
"Carter. Go home." He rolled over onto his side, away from her, his eyes closed so he wouldn't see if he'd hurt her. He just wanted to be alone.  
  
"Janet's coming over to take a look at you."  
  
He felt what might have been a spark of anger flare through him, but it fizzled out immediately and left him as empty as before.  
  
"Good. She can leave when you do."  
  
"I'm not leaving, Sir. Not until you get a hold of yourself."  
  
"I'm fine, Carter. Go away."  
  
He'd never been less fine in his life – well, yes, once before he'd felt equally as empty as he did now, but the memory of that old sorrow was immediately and ruthlessly quelled. Jack didn't want to feel sorrow. He didn't want to feel anything. He just wanted to be left alone.  
  
"I'll be back, Sir," Sam said, standing up and walking out of the room. She left the door open, however, on the vague hope that he might call her back. All she heard was silence, though. She walked into the bathroom and started picking up the drenched clothing that had been left on the floor, wringing it out and hanging it to dry in the shower, then went into the living room and started cleaning it, more to keep occupied while she waited for Janet than any real desire to clean. Although it definitely needed cleaning.  
  
The knock on the door les than a half hour later was a welcomed relief to the prevailing silence in the house, and Sam practically ran to answer it.  
  
"Hey, Sam, how is he?" Frasier asked as she walked into the living room, a small black duffle bag hanging off her shoulder.  
  
"I've never seen him like this, Janet," Carter answered, not even trying to hide her concern. "He won't talk to me, except to tell me he's fine and to go away. He won't look at me. He didn't even say a word when I undressed him and put him to bed."  
  
"When you undressed..."  
  
"He was soaked. And so cold. God, I didn't think he'd ever warm up. I put him into the shower until the hot water gave out, then put him in dry clothes and put him to bed."  
  
"Have you checked on him since?"  
  
"Right after I called you. He stopped shivering, and he feels warm, but it might just be that he's over heated. I don't know. I've never dealt with anything like this."  
  
"Let me go see him," Janet said, giving Carter her best 'it'll be okay' smile as she carried her bag down the hall and into his room.  
  
Sam didn't follow. She sagged down on the couch, watching the hall and fervently hoping that the doctor could do what she hadn't been able to.  
  
"Colonel?"  
  
Frasier sat her bag down on the floor next to the bed, and then took the spot Sam had vacated a little earlier. There was no response from the man lying in the bed. He didn't even tense when he heard her voice, although Frasier had a feeling he wasn't asleep. She moved to the other side of the bed so she could look at his face. It was flushed and weary, and Janet felt her heart tighten for a moment. Even with his eyes closed, the doctor knew the pain when she saw it. Who better to recognize it? What had they all been thinking to leave him alone for so long when he'd needed them the most? They had all been so wrapped up in their own mourning that none of them had thought about Jack. Of course, to give them a little due, he was so withdrawn when he hurt that none of them would have recognized the hurt immediately anyways. And he'd told everyone he was fine. They'd been too hurt themselves to do anything more than believe him.  
  
She reached out and gently touched his cheek, running her hand soothingly along his jaw, then down his neck and under his shirt to feel for shivering. There wasn't any. Just a lot of heat. Too much to be healthy, she knew.  
  
"Colonel? It's Dr. Frasier. Sam called me to come check on you. Lay still for a minute, all right?"  
  
Like he was going to do anything else. Jack kept his eyes closed, completely ignoring her while she did her tests on him. He felt a thermometer touch his ear for a moment until it beeped, felt her bare his arm to take his blood pressure, and even managed to ignore her while she opened his eyes and checked his pupils with a pen light. The cold stethoscope against his chest was a little harder to ignore, but he managed.  
  
"Take a deep breath, Colonel." She ordered.  
  
"No."  
  
Would it be easier to drive her away with words or do what she said so she'd go away? Jack wasn't sure, and deciding required more thought than he was willing to put into it, so he just did what came naturally at that point.  
  
"Sam's worried about you."  
  
"She has better things to worry about. Tell her to go home. Better yet, leave and take her with you."  
  
"You're sick, Colonel. I'm amazed you didn't manage to catch pneumonia, but your lungs sound clear."  
  
"Lucky me."  
  
The words didn't have any affect on the doctor. She was used to patients that treated her like this. The tone in his voice concerned her greatly, though. There was a dead quality that she'd never heard him use before. An emptiness that was far beyond anything she'd heard before. He just didn't care.  
  
She stood up and covered him with the blankets once more, sliding her gentle hands along either side of his jaw and then checking his forehead.  
  
"I'm going to go have a talk with Sam. I'll be back in a minute." 


	3. Drifting

"Well?" There was hope in Carter's voice, but Janet didn't have any to offer.  
  
"He's sick, all right," She told her friend, sitting down in one of the easy chairs and looking over at Sam. "He doesn't seem to have pneumonia, though, just a very high fever, and we can control that. It's his emotional state that I'm more concerned about."  
  
"Did he talk to you?" "He told me to go away." She didn't mention that he'd told her to take Sam as well. There was already hurt lurking in Carter's blue eyes, and Frasier wasn't going to add to it needlessly.  
  
"That's what he told me."  
  
"I know."  
  
"What do we do, Janet?" Sam asked.  
  
"There's a few options, Sam. We can take him back to the SGC and keep him there until he feels better. We can leave him alone like he wants us to. Or we can take care of him here and hope we can get him to pull out of this funk he's in."  
  
"You think it's just depression?" Samantha asked.  
  
"I'm sure it is. But it's far more serious than you know." She saw the Beretta sitting on the coffee table where Carter had placed it and the shells she'd taken from it. "Well, maybe you do understand how serious it is." Carter followed her gaze.  
  
"It was on his bedside stand. I didn't want to leave him alone with it."  
  
"I think we've left him alone too much already," Frasier said softly, rubbing her eyes to hide the hint of moisture that had formed at the thought of O'Neill actually using the weapon on himself.  
  
"He said he was all right," Sam replied, looking towards the hallway as if hoping Jack would make an appearance.  
  
"He's still saying he's all right, Sam." Janet said. "That doesn't mean it's true. I should have seen what was happening to him, you know. You and Teal'c had your own grief to deal with. The three of you were the closest to Daniel. I'm trained to spot theses things, and I completely missed it."  
  
"He's very good at hiding his true feelings, Janet. You know that." Sam wasn't going to allow her friend to sink into any kind of guilt-laden depression of her own.  
  
"So what do we do?" Frasier asked.  
  
"Is there anything we can do for him at the SGC that we can do that we can't do here?"  
  
"No. Time is what he needs, not machinery."  
  
"Then I'll take care of him here. I don't want anyone to see him like this, Janet."  
  
Frasier nodded her understanding. "I'll have to tell General Hammond what's going on, of course, but since you all are already on downtime, it's not like this will affect base operations. Teal'c is off world, but we can send for him to come back."  
  
"Teal'c needs the time alone," Carter said, shaking her head. "Besides, I don't think he should see the Colonel looking like this, either. It would affect their relationship."  
  
"What about your relationship with him?" Janet asked her friend.  
  
The hurt returned to Carter's eyes, and she shook her head. "We don't have a relationship, Janet. He's made it fairly obvious the last week that he doesn't want anything to do with me."  
  
"He's not himself, Sam," Janet said, leaving the armchair and sitting next to Carter on the couch. She took her friend into her arms and held her tightly, giving her as much support as she could. "He's withdrawing, and the first thing someone does when they want to be alone is hurt the people that they're closest to." She ran her hair through Carter's short blonde hair while she felt her friend fight tears. "You're our best chance to bring him back."  
  
Carter looked up, her eyes watery and her cheeks smeared. "What?"  
  
"He's drifting, Sam. You can hear it in his voice. That's far more dangerous than the cold he's managed to catch."  
  
"What can I do?"  
  
"Be with him. Stay as close as he'll let you. Let him know, without words, that you're there for him. It's not going to be easy, though. He's going to do everything he can to drive you away. And I have a feeling he's very good at it."  
  
Carter nodded, and looked around the room. "I guess I'll move in here, then, for a few days."  
  
"That's a good idea. Of course, if you need a break, I'll be happy to come and stay with him." She looked pointedly at the gun on the coffee table. "We don't want him to be alone any more than necessary. God only knows what's going through his head right now."  
  
He could hear murmuring through his open door and knew that Sam and Janet were no doubt discussing him. He didn't care.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
The familiar voice made Jack's eyes open and he found Daniel kneeling next to his bed, eyes level with Jack's. The same innocent, eyes that held so much more compassion than Jack would ever feel in his life.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Jack. It's okay. I'm happy."  
  
"It's not 'okay', Daniel," Jack said softly. He was seeing things. Lovely. Jack pulled the blanket up over his head and screwed his eyes shut as tightly as he could. He lay still for long moments, and finally he pulled the blanket down and looked. Daniel was gone. Had never been there in the first place.  
  
"It'll never be okay," Jack murmured softly, closing his eyes once more to try and block out the world and the pain it caused. 


	4. Unsettled

(This one is short, sorry, but I needed transition)  
  


* * *

  
"I'll watch him if you want to go to your house and gather some things," Janet told Carter. She gestured pointedly towards the clothing Sam was wearing.  
  
"Mine were wet, so I borrowed his," she said. "I really should get some stuff. And some groceries, too, if I know the Colonel."  
  
The two women stood up and walked into the kitchen. Janet looked around with distaste at the mess, while Carter opened the fridge. "Oh yeah, we'll definitely need some groceries."  
  
Frasier came over to look and wrinkled her nose. "Unless you want to live on mayo and moldy milk, it's probably not a bad idea." She shut the door, and shooed Sam out of the kitchen.  
  
"Go get done what you need to do. I'll start cleaning up this mess."  
  
Carter nodded and went into the bathroom to get her keys from her slacks, and looked into the Colonel's bedroom when she passed it. She hesitated, wanting to say something to him, but couldn't think of anything that might help, and wasn't ready to have him start hurting her again. Not yet. She walked back down the hall and into the living room.  
  
"I'll be back as soon as possible," she said to Janet, who was already running water into the sink to start rinsing dishes for the dishwasher.  
  
"That's fine, Sam. Take your time."  
  
She didn't take her time, but she was also careful to make sure she brought everything she thought she might need. A couple changes of loose comfortable clothing. A pair of pajamas. Her toothbrush. A couple of books that she'd been interested in reading, since she knew what kind of books the Colonel had at his house and very few were anything she was into reading. She took much longer at the market, trying to figure out what kind of food she'd be able to convince O'Neill to eat. And she wasn't that great of a cook, so she also made sure that she didn't buy anything too complicated. Steaks and potatoes, and eggs and bacon. And some frozen juices. If they needed anything else, she could always come back.  
  
"Sam's going to stay with you for a couple of days," Janet said softly, sitting on the edge of Jack's bed once more. She reached out and brushed her fingers along his stubbled cheek, trying to give what comfort she could and knowing that there was nothing she'd be able to do. He didn't respond.  
  
"You need to make sure you drink a lot of fluids, Colonel. You're a little dehydrated. If you don't, I'm going to send for an ambulance and have you taken to the SGC."  
  
There was still no response, but Janet knew he could hear her. Of course, that didn't mean he was going to listen to her. She stood up and walked into the living room just as Carter opened the door, arms filled with bags of groceries and personal stuff.  
  
"Here, let me have some of that," Frasier took the food and left Sam alone to stow her few belongings in the guest room.  
  
"Has he said anything?" Carter asked when she came back out into the kitchen.  
  
"Not a word." Janet looked over at her friend as she put a loaf of bread away. "If you need me, I want you to call me immediately, okay? Even if it's just to have a shoulder."  
  
"I will." Sam assured her. "Any last doctor's orders?"  
  
"Make sure he drinks plenty of fluids, try to get him to eat, and don't take anything he says to heart."  
  
"I'll try."  
  
Janet left and Sam took a deep breath and walked back into O'Neill's bedroom. It was late, and she was tired and more than ready to get some sleep, but she wanted to try one last time before she retired for the night. She sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at him, wondering what he was thinking about, and how she'd get him to share it.  
  
"I'm going to bed, Sir," she whispered, unsure if he were awake.  
  
He didn't respond, and Sam felt the prickle of tears. She fought them back; knowing the last thing he needed was a hysterical woman hanging around. Knowing that no one would know, Sam leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, just below his eye, then stood up.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sir. I should have noticed something was wrong earlier, and helped you before it became so bad."  
  
She left his room, then, because she couldn't fight the tears back anymore, and went into the bathroom where she turned the water in the sink on loud enough to drown out the sound of her sobs.  
  
Great. She thought this was all her fault. Jack sighed, feeling a stab of annoyance at his 2IC. It wasn't her fault. Nothing was her fault. It was his. He was the one who'd left Daniel alone. Who'd allowed Daniel to do something stupid and the ultimate price should have been Jack's. Not Daniel's. He should have died. Daniel's death was his fault. Not Carter's. He shouldn't have let Daniel talk him into stopping Jacob Carter, either, come to think of it. A damaged Daniel was better than no Daniel. Jack knew that now. He was so stupid. It was all his fault. He fell asleep repeating that to himself, and slept restlessly. 


	5. Struggles

That first day was a rough one. It was a battle of wills that Sam would have lost if the price of losing wouldn't have been so high. She did a lot of threatening that day. She threatened to have Janet come over and put him on an IV if he didn't eat his breakfast. She threatened to have General Hammond come over with written orders for her to stay after the fourth time he'd tried to kick her out of his house. She threatened to give him a sponge bath if he didn't shower and wash his hair. He did all of the things he told her, but he was quiet and distant the entire time, and after his shower he went right back to his bed and stayed there the rest of the day with his eyes closed and his back to her. She responded by pulling a chair into his room and spending the day sitting next to him reading one of the books she'd brought with her.  
  
Sam tried very hard not to take his actions personally. Tears threatened a few times and she felt wrung out well before lunchtime, but she didn't break down, and she didn't cave in to his depression, which threatened to overwhelm her as well. She talked to Janet a couple times that day, but when the doctor offered to come over, she declined the invitation, saying that she was doing okay. Which wasn't completely true.  
  
Dinner was a fiasco. Jack was tired of being bullied, and had refused to eat. Sam was too exhausted to argue with him, and simply walked out of the room. She picked at her dinner, but she didn't have any more of an appetite than Jack, and soon found herself sitting alone on the sofa, staring at the TV that she was too tired to get up and turn on.  
  
O'Neill found her asleep on the couch later that night. He'd woken after a particularly bad nightmare and had gone in search of a glass of water. He stopped in the entranceway of the living room, and leaned against the wall, watching her sleeping there. She looked so worn out, even from across the room, and Jack knew it was his fault. The thought made him feel guilty, which only made him feel more depressed than he already did. He walked back to his room and took the comforter off his bed, carried it out to the living room and gently covered her with it, careful not to wake her. He wasn't ready to deal with his hurt, and he knew if she woke, she'd want to talk. He watched her sleep a moment longer, then sighed silently and went back to his bed.  
  
The next day was almost as bad as the first one. At least at the start. She bullied him into eating a large breakfast to make up for his missed dinner, and he'd tried to refuse once more. Sam didn't allow him to miss his breakfast, though, and Jack had snapped at her. It was really the first emotion of any sort that he'd displayed since she'd moved in with him, so instead of being hurt, Sam had taken it as a good sign. She'd been almost cheerful when she'd pulled up her chair next to his bed for another day of reading and watching him sulk in his bed. So cheerful, in fact, that O'Neill grumpily rolled out of his bed and carried his blanket to the couch where he wouldn't have to put up with her.  
  
Since she'd long since put his Beretta out of reach, Sam wasn't worried about him being alone, but she had to admit that without him in his room, it was kind of dumb to sit in there and read. She left her book on his nightstand and went out to join him in the living room.  
  
"Stop following me, Carter," Jack growled.  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
He glared at her, but she didn't say anything else, and he rested his head on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes once more. He didn't want to face the world. Or her. She didn't take it personally. Not this time, anyways. Instead she went into the kitchen and started cleaning the breakfast dishes, humming to herself cheerfully as the bright sunlight that filtered through the curtains boosted her spirits and made things seem a little better. O'Neill wasn't so impressed with the sunlight, or the humming, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he drifted off to sleep with her crooning in his ears.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Jack opened his eyes and saw Frasier kneeling in front of him. He blinked owlishly a few times, trying to figure out where he was, and then looked around.  
  
"Where's Carter?"  
  
Janet smiled and promptly stuck a thermometer into his mouth. "She's out getting some fresh air. She'll be back soon." She reached out and took hold of his wrist, checking his pulse. "How are you feeling, Colonel?"  
  
"Fine."  
  
He didn't look fine, but he was sitting up, which was a sight for sore eyes as far as Frasier was concerned. Even better, he'd asked for Carter, which showed concern. Any emotion at this point was a start in the right direction, although the doctor was still concerned. His temperature was still high, and he sounded slightly congested. And there was still a dead quality to his voice that wasn't at all like him.  
  
"Any headaches?"  
  
"Just Carter."  
  
She gave him a piercing look, and Jack sighed.  
  
"No. No headaches."  
  
"That's good. Any coughing?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Spots in front of your eyes?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Blurry vision?"  
  
"No. I told you, I'm fine."  
  
"Uh huh." She ran her hand along his cheek and neck, then up to his forehead. Jack had to admit that her cool hands were soothing, but he only admitted it to himself. He closed his eyes, suddenly tired beyond measure.  
  
"Colonel?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Let's get you back to bed, shall we?"  
  
He stood up, and walked to his room, followed closely by Frasier, who turned down the blankets on his bed. Someone – presumably Carter – had made it, and Jack suddenly had the desire to feel the cool sheets against his bare skin. He pulled his shirt off, struggling with it until Janet had to help him pull it off. Only then did he crawl into his bed and under the blankets, quietly sighing with pleasure as the sheets cooled his heated skin.  
  
Janet made sure he was warmly covered, and then forced him to drink a glass of water. She was still concerned that he was dehydrated, although he looked better than he had.  
  
"I'm going to go report to General Hammond, Colonel. Call if you need me, I'll be right out in the living room." He didn't answer, but she wasn't worried. Sam had told her that he wasn't responding to very much, but that there had been a few signs of minor improvement. They would just have to wait until he was ready, Janet had told Carter. 


	6. Battling Back?

When Carter returned to O'Neill's house she was feeling better and had to admit that she was glad Frasier had come over and kicked her out for a while. She hadn't wanted to leave, telling the doctor that she was fine, and didn't need a break, but Janet had known better, even if Sam hadn't. She was smiling as she walked in the door, but it faded when she noticed immediately that O'Neill wasn't sleeping on the couch anymore.  
  
"I put him to bed," Frasier said. Janet had been fixing dinner in the kitchen, and had seen Sam's automatic glance at the sofa when she'd walked through the door.  
  
"How is he?"  
  
"Fine. At least that's what he keeps telling me."  
  
"That's what he tells me, too," Sam said, setting down the bags of groceries she'd purchased while she was out. "And then he clams up."  
  
"I know. He's really a mess, Sam. I'm beginning to wonder if we shouldn't take him back to the SGC and take care of him there. It's probably very hard on you to be here with him."  
  
"It is hard, Janet," Sam agreed, but she shook her head. "He's not as distant with me as he was that first day. I think we're making progress."  
  
"It's your call, Sam. If you want to keep trying..."  
  
"I do."  
  
"We'll give it a few more days, then."  
  
"Thanks, Janet. And thanks for sending me out today."  
  
"You're welcome. Anytime."  
  
Carter helped Frasier finish dinner, then put a tray together for Jack and wondered what kind of fight he'd put up this time. Janet smiled when she mentioned it, and offered to take it in to him, but Sam declined. She could make him eat. Usually.  
  
"I'm going to head home, Sam," Frasier said. "If you need me, call."  
  
"I will, Janet. Thanks."  
  
She saw the doctor out, and then carried the tray down to O'Neill's bedroom. He was asleep. At least, his eyes were closed and he seemed to be resting peacefully. She hated to disturb him, but she also didn't like the thought of him missing any meals. Walking over, she set his tray down on the nightstand, and sat down on the edge of his bed.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
He opened his eyes, looking at her with a moment's confusion. That was another way to tell that there was something wrong, Sam knew. Usually he knew exactly where he was when he woke up, and she'd seen him look confused more than once, now. She reached out and pressed her hand against his cheek, pretending that it was to check for fever, but more because she absolutely had to touch him. Expecting him to pull away, Sam steeled herself for a sharp comment. But one didn't come. He simply closed his eyes.  
  
"Carter?"  
  
"It's time for dinner, Sir." She said softly, unable to keep the hope from her voice that he hadn't snapped at her, and hadn't withdrawn immediately.  
  
"I'm not hungry, Carter."  
  
"You need to eat, Sir."  
  
"I'm not hungry, Carter." He opened his eyes, and looked at her, and she was surprised to see a pleading look in them. All she'd seen the last few days was a steady succession of blank stares. "I'll eat breakfast tomorrow and not complain. I promise."  
  
Sam watched him thoughtfully for a moment, wondering if this was a new tactic he was using to get out of doing what he didn't want to do. It didn't matter, though, in the end. There was no way she could say no to him when he looked at her the way he was just then. Finally she nodded.  
  
"All right, Sir," she said, standing up and reaching for the tray. "You don't have to eat tonight, but you have to eat as much breakfast as I put in front of you."  
  
"Fine." He closed his eyes again, and she started to leave the room.  
  
"Hey... Carter?"  
  
She turned back and looked at him, but he hadn't opened his eyes.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Maybe you could come back and read for a while, if you don't have anything else to do...?"  
  
Her eyes went to the book that she'd left by his bed, and she smiled, suddenly feeling better than she had in weeks. He didn't want her to read to him; she knew that much. If he'd seen the book, then he knew it was something he'd never understand. He just wanted her company. And that was good enough for her.  
  
"Let me put this away, Sir, and I'll come back and keep – and read for a while."  
  
He nodded, and she left the bedroom and returned the tray to the kitchen. Taking care of the dishes as quickly as she could, she dried her hands and returned to his room, hoping he hadn't changed his mind.  
  
His eyes were closed and his blankets had slipped down off his chest and pooled at his waist while she'd been gone. Sam reached over and covered him back up, watching to see if he was going to react, but he didn't. She lingered with her hand on the blanket, wishing he'd say something, but half afraid that if he did it'd be something designed to drive her out of his room. When he didn't say anything, Sam settled herself in the chair next to his bed, and curled up with her book, only inches away from him should he wake and need anything. 


	7. Dreams and Nightmares

*Wow! Thanks you guys for your reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying this, because I'm enjoying it too. I promise to write as fast as I can without letting it get sloppy*  
  
He dreamed of Daniel again. All his dreams were of Daniel, but some were better than others. In some of the dreams, the ones that were causing Jack the most sleepless nights and the haunted looks in his eyes, Daniel was dying. Or dead. And accusing him of doing it to him. In his dreams Jack couldn't even deny it, since he was completely in agreement. It was his fault Daniel was dead. Even Daniel said so, and who would know better? Other dreams were better. Daniel would talk to him in those gentle tones that Jack remembered so well. A soothing voice that could calm even the angriest diplomat. In these dreams Daniel would assure Jack over and over again that he wasn't to blame. That he was happy where he was. Unfortunately, Jack didn't believe him. The disbelief tended to drive away the soothing dreams, leaving only the vile ones. Dreams that only fueled Jack's depression and self-loathing.  
  
THUD  
  
The noise jerked Jack awake, pulling him from one of the worst dreams yet. He sat up with a start, looking around. Carter was still in her chair next to his bed, but she'd fallen asleep, and a moment later Jack realized that the sound that had woken him had been the book she'd been reading falling to the floor. It hadn't disturbed Carter, though, and Jack watched his 2IC for a moment before reaching over and gently touching her arm.  
  
"Carter." His voice was a stage whisper, but she came awake instantly, afraid something was wrong. Her blue eyes found his and he saw the worry in them and wondered how she could possibly be concerned about him after all the hurt he'd caused their team. And her.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"You fell asleep, Carter. Go to bed."  
  
Sam shook her head, looking for her book, prepared to tell him she'd only been resting her eyes for a moment, and then noticed how tense he was. His eyes weren't holding the dead expression that she'd become so used to the last few days. Instead there was a haunted look. A hurt and self-loathing that Sam had never seen.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Almost as if he realized he'd let her see something he shouldn't have, Jack's expression immediately closed up and he made a shooing motion with his hand.  
  
"Go on, Carter. Get some sleep."  
  
"Are you-?"  
  
"I'm fine, I'm fine." He knew he sounded irritated, but he was trying his level best not to snap at her. "Go on."  
  
Sam didn't argue with him. She couldn't argue with him, and she knew it. He'd just get angry if she tried to get him to admit something was bothering her, and Sam didn't want him angry. Although it would be an improvement over the hurt she'd seen in his eyes. God, if only he'd talk to her! She nodded, unable to think of any reason to stay, and stood up.  
  
"If you need me, Sir, I'll be just down the hall."  
  
"I know, Carter." He closed his eyes, but as tense as he was, Sam knew he wasn't anywhere near sleepy enough to rest.  
  
"Sir-"  
  
"Go to bed, Major."  
  
"Yes, Sir. Good night."  
  
She went to 'her' room, and got into bed, but she was troubled, and sleep was long in coming.  
  
"He's blaming himself, Sam."  
  
Carter's eyes snapped open. Turning, she saw Daniel sitting on the edge of her bed. Just sitting there, looking for all the world like noting had happened. Then she noticed things that weren't quite right. The fact that he wasn't disturbing the part of the mattress he was sitting on, for one. And the fact that he didn't seem to be completely there.  
  
"Wh-what?"  
  
"Jack. He's convinced it was his fault that I died."  
  
"It wasn't. He knows that."  
  
Daniel smiled, but it was a sad smile, and Carter suddenly wanted to cry. She missed him so much.  
  
"You know him better than that, Sam. You probably know him better than anyone. Has he ever not taken the blame when something has gone wrong?"  
  
She was quiet for a moment, trying to come up with an instance that he hadn't, but she was drawing a blank.  
  
Daniel shrugged. "See? He's managed to convince himself that this entire thing was all his fault. And the longer it goes on the worse it's getting."  
  
"I don't know what to do, Daniel," Carter confessed. "You know how he is. The closer you try to get to him, the more he backs away."  
  
"And now it's worse, because he's determined to keep everyone at arm's length to 'keep them safe'."  
  
"Is that what he's doing?"  
  
"I think so."  
  
"What do I do?"  
  
Daniel looked as lost as she felt, and he shrugged once more. "I don't know, Sam. At least you know what's wrong, now. Maybe you'll figure something out."  
  
Sam's eyes snapped open, and she looked around. Morning sunlight was filtering through the curtains and the room was bright and sunny. She looked around, half expecting to see Daniel sitting next to her bed, but there wasn't anyone there.  
  
"It must have been a dream," she murmured to herself as she threw back the covers and got out of bed. But what a dream. It had seemed so real. Like Daniel had actually been there, discussing the Colonel with her. Probably, she mused to herself as she went into the bathroom, it was just wishful thinking. But as she showered she couldn't help but let her mind dwell on the conversation she'd had with him. 


	8. Efforts

He was sleeping when Sam walked into his bedroom. Truly asleep, she knew, since he was sprawled on his bed in a position that was far too awkward to be awake in. He was on his stomach, his head turned away from the door, his arms and legs going pretty much in every direction. Still slightly damp from her shower, Sam went over to the far side of his bed and knelt down to be eye to eye with him, then she reached out and gently touched his bare shoulder.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"Are you awake?" Meaning 'are you awake enough that you'll remember this conversation?'  
  
"Mmm-hmmm..."  
  
Sam smiled, not entirely sure that he was. She moved her hand from his shoulder and touched his cheek, feeling the fever that was still there, although it wasn't as bad as it had been, she knew.  
  
That got his attention, and Jack opened his eyes, although he didn't move away from her touch.  
  
"What, Carter?" His eyes were back to being unfathomable, but Sam knew she hadn't dreamed the pain she'd seen in them the night before. True, she dreamed Daniel up, but the pain had been real. She ran her hand lightly along his cheek, wishing she knew what to do to speed things up. She was making progress with him, but he was still so distant. She'd decided in the shower that she'd try to simply be with him more, and show him she was there. He'd asked her to stay once, she was going to try and make it so he didn't have to ask again. Unless of course she screwed up and he kicked her out. Or tried to, anyways.  
  
"Time to get up, Sir. Breakfast is almost ready, and I was hoping you'd come eat at the table with me."  
  
"I'm not hungry, Carter," Jack said, almost automatically.  
  
"You promised, Sir." She said, her hand still caressing his cheek. He needed to shave.  
  
He closed his eyes and was quiet for a moment, and Carter wondered if he intended to pretend to be sleeping to get out of his promise of the night before. But just as she was ready to say something, he sighed and opened his eyes again.  
  
"Yeah, I know." His honor was all he had left, he supposed. Bad enough he'd killed one of his best friends, he couldn't let people think he wasn't a man of his word, could he?  
  
Sam saw hurt cloud his expression suddenly, and wondered what he was thinking. She leaned over and brushed a soft, butterfly kiss against his forehead, unable to think of any other way to distract him from whatever was hurting him.  
  
"Go take a shower, Sir," she whispered, hoping he wasn't going to go ballistic on her for doing what she'd just done. "I'll finish breakfast."  
  
When he didn't say anything – which wasn't such a bad thing as far as Carter was concerned, Sam touched the stubble on his jaw once more. "Why don't you shave, too, Sir? You're looking a little Grizzly Adams." Without another word, she stood up and left his room, leaving him staring at the open doorway with his mouth open.  
  
She went into the kitchen and started breakfast, wondering what on Earth she'd been thinking. She'd kissed him! Well, kind of. It hadn't been a hot steamy kiss, of course, but it'd been a definite 'lips against his skin' kiss. She hadn't been thinking, of course. She'd simply reacted to his pain. She'd wanted the hurt in his eyes to go away, and she was fairly certain that it had. All she'd seen in his expression after she'd kissed him was surprise. No anger. No emptiness. No pain. Just shock. She did wonder if she'd gone too far, though. Would he get angry once he'd had a second to think about what she'd done? Would he use that anger as an excuse not to get out of bed and come eat? He could, she knew. Nothing better than a little self-righteous anger to keep a man sulking in his bed for at least another twenty-four hours.  
  
When she heard the bathroom door close, however, she knew he hadn't. She breathed a little sigh of relief, and then allowed herself to grin as she remembered the shocked look on his face. He'd looked as if she'd whacked him with a board. Sam started humming as she cracked eggs into a bowl to scramble them, and when she heard the shower start, she couldn't help but smile once more. Maybe she was getting somewhere after all?  
  
Breakfast was a silent affair. Sam had it all ready by the time he came down the hallway, and when he sat at the table she put a plate in front of him. He'd shaved, like she'd suggested, and she had to admit he looked a lot better. More like himself, anyways. Dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, she knew she was a long ways from getting him to go walking in the park with her, but he was out of bed and eating, and she wasn't going to complain. He was watching her a bit warily, though, Sam decided, smiling to herself. A wary Colonel was much better than an empty one, though.  
  
"There's a game on this morning, Sir," Carter said as she handed him a slice of toast. "I was hoping you'd want to sit out here and watch it with me?"  
  
"What kind of game?"  
  
"Basketball."  
  
"You don't like basketball, Carter."  
  
"Oh, it's not so bad, Sir. Dribbling, shooting a little ball into a basket, sweaty guys running around in shorts. What's not to like?"  
  
He looked at her suspiciously.  
  
"It's either watch the game with me, or come to the park and feed ducks with me."  
  
"Don't you have some place you need to be, Carter?"  
  
She hesitated, wondering if he were trying to drive her away like he had so many times in the past few days, but realized this was an honest question. He truly wanted to know why she wasn't off playing with one of her gizmos.  
  
"No, Sir. I'm exactly where I need to be."  
  
He grunted noncommittally and finished his breakfast in silence, and Carter wondered if she'd said too much. She ate quietly, respecting his desire to not chat, and stood when she was done, reaching for his empty plate.  
  
"I'll do the dishes, Carter," O'Neill said, pulling his plate away from her so she couldn't take it. "You've done enough." His voice was angry, and she wondered what was going through his mind, but she didn't argue with him.  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"Go... relax or something."  
  
He stood up, still not looking at her, and took her dishes into the kitchen with his own. Sam sat at the table a while longer, listening to him putter around, and unsure what to do next. She didn't want to read, and didn't want to leave him alone.  
  
"Carter."  
  
Sam jumped, aware she'd been daydreaming.  
  
"Yes, Sir?"  
  
"Go find something to do. Okay? Anything."  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
She walked into the living room and began rearranging the throw pillows on the couch. Then she moved the books on his coffee table into a different order.  
  
"Carter!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Sir."  
  
She went out onto his deck, unable to think of anything else to do. The air was a little chilly, since it was still early, but the day was bright and the birds were singing. Sam closed her eyes and leaned against the railing, enjoying the light breeze that ruffled her hair and clothing and brought the fresh scent of the nearby pine trees to her.  
  
"Hey."  
  
She jumped again. Sam hadn't heard him open the door to the deck, and hadn't heard him approach. She turned to look at him, and frowned.  
  
"You shouldn't be out here dressed like that, Sir." She told him. He didn't even have any socks on. "You're sick, you know?"  
  
"So everyone keeps telling me." He kept his voice and expression carefully neutral, so Sam wasn't sure if there was an implied criticism there or not. He shrugged, looking down at his bare feet.  
  
"Are you really going to watch the game with me?"  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"It'll be on in a few minutes."  
  
He didn't say anything else, just turned and walked back into the house, and Carter watched him go, wondering yet again what she was going to do with him.  
  
She was right about one thing; O'Neill had to admit as he walked back into the house. He wasn't dressed to go outside. The morning air had chilled him, and even though he'd only been out there for a minute or so, his hair was still wet from his shower and he hadn't worn anything on his feet. The house was warm, but he found himself shivering slightly, and he went down the hall to get himself a blanket.  
  
Sam saw him disappear down the hallway as she entered the house, and sighed, wondering if he had changed his mind about the game and had decided to go back to bed. She didn't follow him. She wasn't in the mood to nag or bully him, and she had to admit that if he wanted to go to bed, it was only fair. He'd done far more than she'd expected him to already that morning. She sat down on the couch, and picked up the remote, turning the TV on to the right channel. Great. She was going to end up watching a basketball game she had absolutely no desire to watch. Worse, she was going to have to watch it alone.  
  
She looked up when she heard him returning, though, and smiled when she saw the reason he'd left. He had his comforter wrapped around him. Feeling a little guilty for doubting him, she was silent as he came into the living room, although her heart gave a little jump for joy when he sat next to her on the couch instead of taking one of the easy chairs. Probably the couch afforded a better view of the TV, she mused, but she didn't say anything.  
  
"Last chance." He said, shifting on the sofa until he was comfortable.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"If you don't want to watch this, now is the time to say so. I'll go back to bed, and you can go do something more interesting."  
  
"No. I'm fine, Sir. I want to watch it." She looked to see who was playing. "I'm a big fan of the Kicks."  
  
"That's the Knicks, Carter," O'Neill corrected. But he didn't say anything else. Carter blushed, caught in a lie, but he didn't seem to mind, and she knew that any other time he would have found it funny. She settled in to watch the game, unaware as she did so that Jack had unconsciously moved himself a little closer to her. 


	9. A First Attempt

(This one is going to be short, sorry, but I promise another one tonight! Maybe 2)  
  
Neither of them made it through the ball game. Jack didn't make it through the 2nd quarter. Sam looked over after what she thought must have been a good play – to judge by the fans reactions – only to find he had fallen asleep, his head tilted to the side with his blanket playing the dual role of blanket and pillow. He was only inches from her, and Sam could clearly see the lines of worry on his face, even while he slept. It made her want to reach out and soothe them. Something she didn't do, since she didn't want to disturb him. She simply turned and went back to watching the game, figuring she could at least tell him who won when he woke up.  
  
She didn't make it through the end of the halftime show. Basketball was boring, even with the crowds cheering like maniacs. Without anything to keep her occupied, Sam's body took the opportunity to catch up on a little much needed rest. She curled up next to the Colonel, not touching him, but close enough that if he reached out to her he'd be able to find her.  
  
When she woke up next, he wasn't beside her. Carter looked around, wondering where he was and what time it was, and was shocked to find that it was mid afternoon. She stood up, looking around for him, but he wasn't in the kitchen or the living room. A quick glance into his bedroom and the open bathroom door told her he wasn't in either of those rooms either. Feeling a little panic, she went to the door that led out to the deck, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him out there.  
  
He was sitting in the same chair she'd found him in the first night, but he was wrapped in his blanket, so she wasn't as concerned as she might have been. The blanket proved that he'd at least thought about taking care of himself before going outside, and that was a good sign, Sam thought.  
  
She stepped out the door, closing it behind her and silently walked up to stand next to him.  
  
"Sir? Everything okay?"  
  
"Everything's fine, Carter." His voice told her otherwise, though, and Sam had a feeling he'd been out on the deck brooding. Or blaming himself? That seemed more likely, considering the bleak tone of his voice.  
  
"Are you hungry?"  
  
"Who won the game?" He asked her, changing the subject.  
  
"I don't know, Sir. I fell asleep. The guys in black were ahead when the halftime show came on, so they probably did."  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"Sir...?" Carter crouched down next to him, looking at him. "Do... do you want to talk about it?"  
  
"The game? No, Carter. If you don't understand basketball, I'll buy you a book on it."  
  
"That's not what I meant, Sir."  
  
"I know, Carter." He stood up and left the blanket sitting in the chair and walked back into the house without another word to her. 


	10. Visitations

The rest of the day was a rough one for Sam. Jack went to his bedroom and back to bed, and refused to eat when she brought him a late lunch. He claimed that he wasn't hungry, that she'd given him a big breakfast, but she didn't buy it. The empty expression was back, and she wondered if she'd pressured him too early and had undone any good she might have done. He didn't talk to her after that. Instead, he closed his eyes and turned away as he'd done so many times before, and tried to close out anything and everyone.  
  
She didn't press the issue of lunch, feeling that a missed meal at this moment was the least of their worries. Instead, she cleaned, trying to work off her frustrations and hurt. Half the time she vacuumed, she was sobbing, knowing he wouldn't be able to hear her over the noise. When she came to his room with a tray of dinner, he didn't want to eat, and Sam was forced to resort once more to threatening him with a visit from Frasier and an IV. She come to the point of actually getting Janet on the phone when Jack caved and grudgingly ate most of his dinner, although he was furious the entire time he was eating, and didn't bother to hide it. She didn't keep him company that evening. He didn't ask, and she was afraid to offer. She'd been hurt too much that day to open herself up to anymore. He always knew what to say that hurt the most, and he was so angry at her bullying that he wasn't holding back.  
  
She checked on him once more before she went to bed, but she didn't do anything more than make sure he was actually in his room. He didn't initiate a conversation, and she didn't stick around to hear the silence echoing through out his room. Hopefully, she told herself, a good night's sleep would restore both their equilibriums and they'd be able to be a little more civilized to each other the next day. Otherwise she was afraid she was going to go slowly mad.  
  
"What are you doing Jack?"  
  
It was late, and O'Neill had been lying in his bed for hours, staring at the darkened ceiling. With Sam gone and the lights off, there was no reason to keep his eyes closed, after all. He turned at the sound of the voice he knew so well, and saw Daniel standing next to his bed.  
  
"Just laying here, Danny boy... Wondering who I'm going to kill next."  
  
Daniel made an exasperated noise and stepped closer to the bed. "It's not your fault, Jack. How many times do I have to tell you that?"  
  
"I wish I had a dollar for all the times I've heard your voice tell me otherwise." The agony in Jack's voice was crushing. It was the first time he'd mentioned the evil dreams, but he figured it was safe to tell Daniel. After all, he was dreaming Daniel.  
  
"That wasn't me telling you that, Jack. It was your own mind using my voice. You didn't do anything wrong. It was all my fault."  
  
"You're wrong, Daniel." Jack shook his head, wondering if he were going insane and if arguing with your own nightmares was a first sign of it.  
  
Daniel changed tactics.  
  
"You're hurting Sam."  
  
"She's tough, she'll survive."  
  
"You really believe that?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"She cried herself to sleep. Is that tough enough for you?"  
  
He felt a stab of guilt, and sorrow, but steeled himself against both. "I don't care." He lied.  
  
"You're going to lose her, Jack. She's not as strong as you think, and if you keep doing this to her, you're going to say something, or do something that she won't be able to forgive."  
  
When Jack didn't answer, Daniel stepped closer, right to the edge of the bed and looked down at his friend. "Unless that's what you intend to do..." He got that look of sudden comprehension that Jack was so poignantly familiar with.  
  
"You're hurting her on purpose! You're trying to drive her away."  
  
There was no hiding it from his dreams, so Jack didn't bother to deny it.  
  
Daniel shook his head, sorrow evident in both his expression and in his voice. "Jack. You dumb son of a bitch. You're succeeding. But ask yourself this? What are you going to do without her?"  
  
He woke abruptly, sitting up quickly and looking over to the dark corner of his room that Daniel had occupied. There was nothing there, but the dream had seemed so real. His friend had seemed so solid. The anger, the sorrow, the exasperation. It had all been so clear to Jack. How could he have dreamed it? Jack lay in his bed, breathing heavily, remembering the conversation. He'd killed one friend already. Was he really ready to drive another one away? What had he been thinking? Hurting Carter was the last thing he really wanted to do. More importantly, when had he come up with such a foolish, ill-conceived notion? Sometime in the last few days, he was sure. Maybe he'd decided that if Carter were far away from him, then he wouldn't be able to hurt her? But how much pain was he willing inflict on her to drive her away?  
  
He tossed back his blankets and tumbled out of his bed, suddenly terrified that she'd left while he'd been sleeping. He went to the door, still tangled in blankets and shrugging them off in the hallway. Stopping at the door of the guest bedroom, he almost cried out in relief when he saw her sleeping in the bed in the muted glow of a nightlight.  
  
Jack stepped into her room and sat on the edge of the bed, quietly, watching her sleep for a moment before reaching a trembling hand out and touching her cheek. Her eyes flew open at the contact, and Sam sat up in alarm.  
  
"Sir? Is everything all right?" She could see his face clearly, and the lost look in his haunted eyes made her want to weep.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sam," he whispered hoarsely. "I..." Tears were welling in his eyes when he thought of how close he'd come to doing one of the dumbest things of his life. "I never... I'd never hurt you."  
  
"Jack...?" All formality was gone at that moment. He looked so hurt that she instinctively gathered her in his arms and pulled her close against him. "What happened, Jack? What's wrong?" She whispered as she rocked him against her.  
  
He was sobbing, now, and simply shook his head, unable to say anything. Unable to catch his breath in anything more than stuttering gasps. "I'm sorry..." He managed to whisper once more, and Sam hugged him closer. His arms went around her and he clung to her, holding her as tightly as he could, reassuring himself even as he broke down that she wasn't going to leave him. 


	11. Comforts

It hurt her to see him so vulnerable. Carter held Jack while he sobbed, murmuring soothing sounds in his ear as he clung to her like a small child who'd just woken from a nightmare. She pulled away from him long enough to get him under the covers with her, not wanting him to catch a chill, but then gathered him back into her arms once more and tucked his head under her chin.  
  
"What happened, Jack?" She murmured softly, rubbing his back with one hand and holding him tight with the other. He didn't answer. He didn't have the breath to answer. And he didn't want to tell her, anyways.  
  
Sam didn't press him. She would eventually find out, she was sure, and she wasn't about to do anything to further upset him that night. He was already a mess, and she wasn't in any condition herself to try and force it out of him. Instead, she simply gave him what he seemed to need most. She held him tightly; reassuring him that everything was going to be fine. Even though she wasn't exactly sure what was wrong.  
  
He fell asleep in her arms, and Carter leaned back into the pillows that she'd used to prop herself up, pulling Jack down with her and resting his head on her shoulder. He muttered something in his sleep, but she didn't understand it and he didn't repeat it, instead falling into a deeper sleep. Sam dried his cheeks with her hand, and then ran her fingers through his hair lightly, more to calm herself than to soothe him, since he was already asleep. She took much longer to drift off, her mind filled with a jumble of emotions that she hadn't even begun to sort out, all of them centered on the man she was holding so carefully in her arms.  
  
It was late morning when Jack finally woke up. He woke slowly, unsure of where he was until he realized that he was in Carter's arms. He remembered the dream from the night before, and the resulting crying jag, and wondered how the hell he was going to explain that to Carter. He wasn't sorry it happened, though. He just wondered how he'd managed to sink into such a funk so quickly.  
  
He sat up, reluctantly removing himself from her protective embrace. Carter woke up as soon he started to move, and her hand held him tightly for another moment until she realized he was awake and moving into a different position.  
  
"Colonel?" Her voice was a whisper, and her eyes were filled with concern for him. Probably wondering if he was going to start bawling again, Jack thought privately. He didn't say anything, though. He just leaned over and kissed her cheek gently, then moved off the bed and left the room. He wasn't ready for any questions. He felt wrung out.  
  
Carter almost felt hurt by his silence, but she knew it wasn't directed at her this time. She knew he'd kissed her to make sure that she knew he wasn't angry, or upset, and she could let him go without a word because of that silent guarantee. She stretched, trying to decide just how tired she still was, and whether she wanted to go back to sleep or not. She deserved a little extra sleep, she decided, and she drew the blankets up to her chin, rolled over onto her side and closed her eyes and went back to sleep.  
  
O'Neill took a shower and shaved, dressed in a pair of sweats and then went into his bedroom and picked up all the bedding that had been strewn about during the night. He debated going back to bed, but didn't feel like it. He was worn out, but he didn't want to sleep another day away. His stomach growled, surprising him, and Jack wandered out into the kitchen to make breakfast.  
  
He made enough for two, even though Carter hadn't made an appearance and O'Neill had a feeling she'd gone back to sleep. He dished up a plate of eggs and bacon for himself, and one for her then carried the tray back to her room, unwilling to eat alone. For that matter, he didn't feel like being alone at all. He just hoped Carter would forgive him for being the world's biggest jerk.  
  
"Carter?"  
  
He set the tray down and stretched out on the guest bed next to her, although he was on the blankets and she was under them.  
  
"Carter?" She murmured something, but didn't open her eyes. Jack shrugged silently to himself and reached over her, taking his plate of breakfast of the tray. Setting it between himself and Carter, he started eating hungrily.  
  
She woke while he was still eating, and looked at him in confusion.  
  
"What are you doing, Colonel?"  
  
"Eating breakfast," he answered, showing her the piece of bacon he had in his hand.  
  
"You're getting crumbs in my bed."  
  
"I brought you some."  
  
She sat up, and looked around. He was wearing a pair of sweats and nothing else, and there was a plate of eggs and bacon sitting on a tray next to her.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"They're probably cold. I tried to wake you up."  
  
"That's okay, I've had worse." She took her plate and started eating. O'Neill finished his, set his plate on the floor to keep it out of the way, and stretched out next to her once more, resting his head on the pillow close to her, but not so close that he was in her way.  
  
"Rough night, huh?" Sam said softly, watching him as she ate.  
  
He nodded silently, but didn't say anything.  
  
"You need to talk?"  
  
He shook his head, and stopped himself from saying something that might have come out snappish. Instead he rested his hand on her leg for a moment, as if to remind himself that he wasn't going to try and drive her away.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it, Carter." He told her softly. He closed his eyes, feeling the hurt and depression that had plagued him all week well up inside him. "I can't."  
  
She didn't press. He'd closed his eyes, but Sam knew that he wasn't shutting her out this time. If that had been his intention, he'd have left her room. He'd talk when he was ready, and she'd support him as much as he'd let her until then. 


	12. Teddy Bears and Kisses

Another short one, but I'll make it up to you!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*  
  
This day was the easiest so far, as far as Sam was concerned. Not that it was easy on her; it wasn't. Jack was, under the best of situations, a difficult patient. And this wasn't the best of situations. He was moody, and quiet, and he was distant. But he was also very careful to keep a rein on his sharp tongue when he was telling her what he did and didn't want to do. He also tried very hard to keep things between the two of them from escalating into any kind of battle of wills. Which was a relief for Carter, who didn't think she could handle another day of threatening and bullying.  
  
After she'd finished her breakfast, she and Jack had stayed in her bed for a while longer; neither of them inclined to get up right away. He hadn't spoken to her, and it was obvious that his mind was a million miles away – maybe more – but she was also certain that he wanted to be with her. Maybe needed her company? She wasn't sure, and couldn't ask. He dozed off while they were lounging in bed, and Sam covered him with a blanket and left him to sleep while she showered then took care of the breakfast dishes.  
  
Jack's sleep was restless. His mind, which was far more agile than he usually led on, was continually blasting scenarios at him. Different scenarios in which Daniel died over and over again, each more horrifically the one before, until it finally ended with the actual last day of Daniel's life. All his fault, his mind reminded him. He'd been responsible for his team, and he'd failed to bring them all home safe. And because of his failure, his friend was dead. His Daniel, who'd always been able to look at all sides of a situation. Not at all like Jack, who saw everything as a conceived threat until it proved to him that it wasn't. Daniel, who'd managed to figure out the Stargate in the first place. Daniel, who'd even managed to keep Jack from driving away Carter. Had even managed to do it while being dead.  
  
He woke with a start, sitting up and looking around. Carter was gone, and he was alone. Instant panic seized him, Where was she? Had she left him for good? Had his stupid plan worked? He practically dove off the bed, tangled in the blanket that Carter had covered him in and fell heavily, only to pull himself back to his feet again.  
  
"Carter?!" He freed himself from the blanket and ran out into the hall. And damn near crashed into her as she came rushing up to see what was wrong. She put a hand up to avoid an impact, but Jack didn't even notice. She was still here! Relief washed through him and he wrapped her in a hard embrace, burying his face in the junction between her neck and shoulder.  
  
"You were gone," he murmured raggedly. "I... I was..." She wasn't sure what he said next, since the words were muffled by her skin, but Sam held him closely, unsure what had happened to cause such a reaction. He was so agitated!  
  
"Easy, Jack," She told him, stroking his hair. "I'm here. I'm here." She brushed a kiss against his cheek, but he turned his head and captured her lips with his own. It was a bruising, desperate kiss, but it was also more than lust. There was a deep desire and yearning in it that literally took Sam's breath away.  
  
Sam melted into the kiss, but a moment later, he broke the contact and the one kiss became a dozen tender kisses along her cheek and neck.  
  
"I thought you'd left," He whispered finally, burying his face once more against her neck.  
  
"I'm not going anywhere, Jack," Sam told him, wondering if he were afraid she was going to give up on him. She put a hand on either side of his face and gently forced him to look at her. Trying her best to keep the agonized look in his eyes from breaking her heart, Sam kissed him softly, once, and then gave him the brightest smile she could force. "We're going to get you through this, Jack. I promise you."  
  
He nodded, even though he didn't think it was possible, and Sam took his hand and led him out to the living room. The two settled on the sofa, where Sam made sure he was covered up, and Jack wordlessly cuddled against her side, his head resting on her shoulder. Sam was torn between remembrances of the heated kiss, which caused her to flush, and the feeling that now she knew what a teddy bear or a security blanket felt like. 


	13. Anchors and Booze

Around lunchtime the phone rang and Sam reached over and grabbed it, hoping it wouldn't wake O'Neill, who was dozing beside her.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hey Sam, it's Janet. How are you doing?"  
  
She looked over at O'Neill, who had opened his eyes when the phone rang, and reached out and touched her fingertips to his cheek, giving him a reassuring smile. He didn't return the smile, but he also didn't close his eyes, or turn away.  
  
"I'm not sure, Janet."  
  
"Is he eating?"  
  
"More or less."  
  
"Is he yelling at you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Honestly?" Sam heard the note of disbelief in Frasier's voice.  
  
"Honestly."  
  
"Well, I'm going to come over there in a little bit, would you like me to bring you anything? Some clean clothes? More books? Big bottle of booze?"  
  
Sam laughed, and shook her head, even though the doctor couldn't see it. "No, I think – wait, how about a deck of cards? I know the Colonel doesn't have any here, because I borrowed his and never returned them."  
  
"Can do." Janet hung up, and Sam put the phone down and gave O'Neill another smile.  
  
"Janet's coming over."  
  
"Joy."  
  
"Sir-"  
  
"I'm sorry." He closed his eyes, and leaned back against the sofa. Sam shook her head, and leaned over as well, kissing him gently. His eyes opened, but he didn't make any other motion.  
  
"It's okay, Sir," Sam whispered. "This is hard for you, and we know it. Just... just try to be a little less... sarcastic. Please?"  
  
He nodded, and Sam gave him another smile before she stood up. "We should get you dressed in a little more than just sweats if we're going to have company, you know? Maybe a pair of jeans, even."  
  
"I don't want to get dressed, Carter," Jack mumbled, but she ignored him and walked down the hall and into his bedroom, and began rifling through his dresser. O'Neill grumbled, but stood up and went to see what she was doing, moving noiselessly on bare feet.  
  
"Here, Sir," Sam said, handing him underwear, a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. "Put those on."  
  
"Sam-"  
  
"Jack. Please?"  
  
He knew when he was beat. Jack tossed the clothes on the bed and started to take his sweats off.  
  
"I'll wait for you in the living room, Sir," Sam said quickly, turning to go and blushing furiously despite herself. "Socks, too!" She called as she disappeared down the hall.  
  
He muttered a curse under his breath, but he did what she told him to, grumbling the entire time as he tried to figure out how she'd managed to make him do exactly the opposite of what he'd wanted to.  
  
"She knows what's best for you right now, Jack."  
  
O'Neill looked over and saw Daniel standing next to the bed, and wondered how the hell he was dreaming him when he was wide awake. He knew he was awake.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"It's nice to see you, too, Jack." Daniel smiled fondly at his friend, and Jack shrugged  
  
"You know what I mean."  
  
"Yeah, I know." Daniel went over and sat down on the bed, and looked at his friend for a long moment taking in the differences only a couple weeks had wrought. "I'm here for the same reason Sam's here. The same reason Janet's going to come over, and the same reason Teal'c would be here if he knew what was going on. You need help."  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"I've never seen you less fine, Jack," Daniel said, shaking his head. "You've allowed yourself to drift, and you're going to have to find an anchoring, soon."  
  
"An anchor?"  
  
He leaned down to get his shirt off the floor where it had fallen, and when he looked up, Daniel was gone.  
  
"Great," he muttered, as he pulled the shirt on then fastened his jeans. "Even in my daydreams Daniel talks gobbledygook."  
  
He sat down on the bed, and stared at the place Daniel had been, wishing that the next time he dreamed Daniel was talking to him, he'd be able to figure out a way to keep him from leaving. Or maybe figure out a way to go with him?  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Jack jumped slightly, startled from his thoughts by the return of Carter, who'd come back to make sure he was getting dressed and not retreating back into his bed. He looked at the doorway where she was standing, and then back at the place Daniel had been.  
  
"Are you all right, Sir?" She asked, noting that he looked bewildered.  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
Of course. Sam wondered if there was some way she could make him lose that word from his vocabulary. He was dressed, though, and she noticed he'd even managed to fish out a pair of socks.  
  
"Come out here and keep me company while we wait for Janet?" She asked him, holding her hand out to him like she would a small child.  
  
He nodded wordlessly and stood up, taking her hand and allowing her to lead him out of the room, although he did look back over his shoulder one more time, hoping for another glimpse of Daniel. 


	14. Temptations

Thank you all for the reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying my story, and I'll write as fast as I can, honest!  
  
~~~*~~~*~~~~*~~~~~*  
  
He sat on the sofa and Sam went into the kitchen, to make coffee and try to decide what to have for lunch. Jack was reliving his conversation with Daniel, although he was actually focusing more on what his friend had looked like than their actual conversation. He'd looked just like Jack had expected him to – of course he did, since he was imagining him – but it was still a sight for sore eyes to see him looking fit. Of course, he also looked almost chronically annoyed with Jack, but he was used to that look.  
  
"Colonel?"  
  
He was startled back to the present, and saw that Sam had come to sit next to him on the couch.  
  
"What would you like for lunch?"  
  
He shook his head, still miles away. "I'm not very hungry, Carter."  
  
"We'll wait and see what Janet wants, shall we?"  
  
Was he speaking Chinese? Why didn't she ever listen to him? Jack felt a flare of irritation and scowled, but Sam ignored the look he threw her. She was getting used to them. Besides, she knew how he truly felt about her, now. She could handle his growls. She leaned over and kissed his cheek softly, more to soothe him than anything, but then gave into her own desire and claimed his lips with hers.  
  
He didn't resist the kiss. He couldn't have if he wanted to, and God knew he didn't want to. Jack deepened the kiss, leaning against her gently, his mind completely with her, now, and his hand sliding under her shirt as if it had a mind of its own. He felt the soft skin of her flat belly and Sam moaned into his mouth, which only excited him further. He moved slightly, the motion gently forcing Sam to lean back a bit further, his thoughts entirely focused on the woman he was with. The woman he had finally admitted he needed.  
  
A knock on the door caused both of them to jump, and Sam actually fell off the sofa, tumbling in an ungracious and flustered heap to the floor. Jack groaned, and closed his eyes, fighting for control that had completely fled.  
  
"I'll... I'll get it," Sam stammered, quickly picking herself up off the floor and trying to catch her breath. She glanced at Jack, who still had his eyes closed, and saw that he was breathing just as heavily as she was. She grinned, despite herself, at the notion that they'd almost been caught in a very compromising position, and was glad she'd locked the door the night before.  
  
She took a couple of deep breaths, and then opened the door.  
  
"Janet! That was quick."  
  
Frasier walked in, smiling. "I don't live all that far away, Sam." She saw O'Neill sitting on the sofa and walked into the living room, carrying her medical bag.  
  
"Colonel O'Neill," she said, smiling. "It's good to see you up."  
  
Jack opened his eyes and reached for a couch pillow and put it in his lap as she approached. "Hi, Doc." He said, putting on a completely forced smile.  
  
"How are you feeling, Sir?"  
  
"Fine."  
  
Frasier knelt down in front of him; pleased to see he was actually dressed, but slightly worried by the fact that he seemed flushed. She placed her hand on his forehead, frowning. "You're awfully flushed, Colonel. Are you sure you're all right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Frasier stuck a thermometer in his mouth, and then checked his pulse and blood pressure, both of which were a little above normal, and Janet glanced at Sam.  
  
"Has he been sleeping? Eating? Getting plenty to drink?"  
  
Sam nodded from the kitchen, where she was pouring Janet a cup of coffee. "It's a bit of a struggle, but yes. We were just talking about what we were going to have for lunch."  
  
"I told you I'm not hungry, Carter," Jack said, pulling the thermometer out of his mouth.  
  
"Yes, Sir, I know." She looked at Janet, giving her a 'see what I've had to deal with?' look.  
  
"Well, since the Colonel is dressed, why don't we go out for lunch?" Frasier suggested. She supposed if the two of them had been arguing, it would explain why Jack was so red-faced.  
  
"I don't want to go out."  
  
"Come on, Sir," Sam said. "It'll be nice to get out. I'll buy."  
  
"No. You guys go without me, I'll stick around here."  
  
"Come on, Colonel." Frasier said, smiling and putting her medical instruments away. "Some fresh air would do you good."  
  
"I don't want any fresh air."  
  
"Colonel..."  
  
"I. Don't. Want. To. Go." Jack said, distinctly. "Period."  
  
He looked over at Carter, who was giving him a pleading look that plainly told him she wanted him to go, and he sighed. "Fine, I'll go." 


	15. Manipulations

Centennial Street in Boulder was a quiet road filled with cafes and small restaurants that was well off the main roads. It was a laid back area of town and this was where Sam and Janet took their reluctant charge. Jack didn't say a word as they chose the outdoor café, and when the waiter came and asked him what he wanted to drink, he growled something unintelligible.  
  
"He'll have a beer," Sam said from where she was sitting next to him. She put her hand on his knee under the table and gave him a look that asked him to please be civilized, and Jack sighed again.  
  
"Beer is fine."  
  
"What kind, Sir?" The waiter asked.  
  
"The kind you drink," he snapped. Fingers dug into his thigh and he scowled. "Whatever's handy will be fine. Thank you."  
  
Janet gave Sam a curious look, wondering how she was managing to keep him from getting up and stalking off. She'd been shocked that he'd agreed to come in the first place. Especially after making it so obvious that he didn't want to go. Carter shrugged, then smiled at the waiter and ordered a cup of coffee.  
  
The two women chatted while they waited for their lunch to arrive, but Jack was silent as he nursed his beer, refusing all attempts to get him involved with the conversation. He responded in single syllable answers if they asked him anything directly, and shrugged if one of the two tried for a clarification. His mind was on other things and he wasn't in the mood to enjoy the fine weather.  
  
Sam wasn't bothered by his reticence. She knew she was pressing him into doing what he didn't want to do, and knew she was shamelessly using the feelings they had for each other as a tool to manipulate him. Under ordinary circumstances, she'd never have considered such tactics, but the way things were going it was all she had to fall back on at the moment. She didn't even complain when he picked at his lunch, although Fraiser wasn't quite so forgiving, and managed to bully him into eating about half of everything.  
  
When they returned to O'Neill's house, he went straight into his room, and didn't come back out.  
  
"Has he been so quiet all week?" Janet asked her friend.  
  
Sam nodded, "It beats having him tell me to go away, though."  
  
"Has he mentioned Daniel?"  
  
She shook her head. "No. I asked him if he wanted to talk, but he said he couldn't." She was quiet for a moment. "Sometimes he'll be sitting there, and you can tell just by the look on his face that he's thinking about him. He gets so distant." She looked at Fraiser, "I dreamed about him the other night."  
  
"The Colonel?"  
  
"No. Daniel. It was the weirdest thing. It felt like he was right there, talking to me." Sam shrugged, "I thought I was getting over it a little better, you know?"  
  
"Well, it takes time, Sam. People deal with grief differently. Some can't stop crying, and some can't start."  
  
"Like the Colonel."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"He's blaming himself. I know he is."  
  
"I'm sure he is. It's common for Commanders who lose a member of their team to do that, and Jack and Daniel were a lot closer than either wanted to admit." She looked at Carter pointedly. "You and the Colonel are close, too, Sam. That's why I'm putting so much hope in your ability to get him to open up and talk about it. You might be able to get through to him where none of the rest of us could."  
  
"I'm trying, Janet," Sam said, blushing slightly despite herself. "He's not making it easy, that's for sure."  
  
"I know. Just remember that if you need someone to talk to – who will talk back – I'm always a phone call away."  
  
"I will."  
  
"Good. Now, I have patients to go check on. Do you want me to check on the Colonel before I leave?"  
  
"I'll do it, thanks. He'll probably give me the silent treatment the rest of the day."  
  
Janet smiled and gave her friend a hug, "Just remember to call me if you need me." 


	16. Dinner and a side order of Petulance

Once Janet was gone, Sam walked down the hallway to check on O'Neill. His clothes were in a heap on the floor, and he was in bed, wrapped firmly up in his blankets with his back turned towards her. It was obvious he'd had enough socializing for the day. She walked around his bed and sat on the edge where he could see her. Even though his eyes were closed, it was obvious he wasn't asleep.  
  
"What, Carter?" He asked, not opening his eyes.  
  
She reached out and caressed his cheek. "I just wanted to thank you, Sir, for coming with us."  
  
"You didn't give me a lot of choice." His tone was accusatory and Sam didn't try to deny it.  
  
"I know. But thank you."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
"Do you mind if I stay in here and read for a while, Colonel? Or would you rather be alone?"  
  
He opened one eye, looking up at her. "Doc gone?"  
  
"Yes, she had patients to go check on."  
  
"You can stay. Just don't mumble while you're reading."  
  
"Yes, Sir." Sam smiled and reached over him to get her book off the stand by his bed, then settled herself next to him on his bed, using a couple pillows to prop herself up into a sitting position. Once she stopped moving and started reading, Jack shifted himself wordlessly, moving close enough to her that he could rest his head against her side, right under her elbow. Sam put her book in her other hand and used her free hand to run her fingers through his hair, caressing and comforting him with the simple touch as she found the place she'd left off the other night, and began reading.  
  
Jack sighed deeply, and relaxed against her, one arm coming out from under his blanket to drape across her. He was as comfortable as he had ever been, and for the moment, at least, felt peaceful as well. He felt himself falling asleep, and didn't struggle against it, certain that for the time being, Sam could keep the nightmares away. He mumbled something as he was dozing off, but since his face was buried in her side, she wasn't exactly sure what he said.  
  
It was much later when Sam set her book aside. The room was getting dark and she was having trouble seeing the pages. She could have reached over and turned the light on, but she was ready for a break anyways. Besides, she didn't want to keep O'Neill awake. She was going to have to wake him up soon to get him to eat some dinner, but beyond that she was ready to let him sleep as much as he wanted to. Not only would it help him get over his cold quicker if he were well-rested, but it would keep him from being cranky. Well, cranky from lack of sleep, anyways. He was already grumpy enough as it was.  
  
Carter slid carefully out of his bed, trying not to wake him, but he stirred when she moved the arm that was draped over her belly. He opened his eyes, looking confused for only a moment before he realized where he was and whom he was with.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"Shhh... go back to sleep."  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"I need to get up and get dinner ready."  
  
"Already?" He had a definite petulance in his tone suddenly, and she realized he was probably tired of arguing with her over whether he was going to eat or not. It wasn't fun for her to bully him, and she knew it couldn't be fun for him to be bullied.  
  
"It's later than you probably think, Colonel."  
  
"I'm not-"  
  
"Hungry, I know." She smiled, and crawled off the bed. "I'm just going to heat up the doggie bags from lunch, so it's not going to be a huge meal."  
  
"Why don't you listen to me, Carter?" He asked, rolling over and sitting up.  
  
"I do listen, Sir."  
  
She left it at that, and retreated into the bathroom before he had a chance to say something else. Something that would probably had been grumpy and rude.  
  
O'Neill scowled, and sat in his bed with his arms crossed over his bare chest, wondering if he should just kick her out of his house. Yeah yeah, he loved her; there was no denying that. He'd known that for a long time, and had done a great job of suppressing it so far, but she was so annoying!  
  
"'I do listen, Sir,'" he muttered in a high-pitched sullen imitation of her own voice. He sighed, then, thinking of the kiss the two of them had shared earlier that afternoon. The one Fraiser had interrupted. That could have easily led somewhere, he knew. He'd wanted it to, and Sam had obviously wanted it to. There were regulations against it, of course, and a million reasons that nothing should happen between the two of them, but it had been SUCH a kiss! He was broken from his revelry when she stuck her head in the door.  
  
"You want to eat out here with me tonight?" Sam noticed his closed posture; arms crossed, scowl on his face, and knew she was definitely pushing it with the question, but it had to be done.  
  
Jack started to say something rude, but bit it back instead and shrugged.  
  
"I suppose."  
  
The smile she gave him was worth it, he decided, and she disappeared again, presumably to go make the meal she was manipulating him into eating. Jack got out of bed and looked for something to wear, thinking that although it'd be fun to see her reaction if he tried to just walk out and eat dinner naked, it was immature and petty. 


	17. Breakdowns

Dinner was quiet, but this time it wasn't entirely Jack's fault. Sam's mind was on her earlier conversation with Fraiser, and she was almost as distant as O'Neill had been recently as she went over the conversation again and again, wishing she knew how to make him stop blaming himself for something he had no control over.  
  
He noticed she was quiet, but wasn't sure why, and wondered if it was something he'd done. Since his conversation with Daniel, and his subsequent revelation that she was the most important thing he had, he'd tried very hard to keep the emptiness he felt regarding Daniel's death as separated as he could from his relationship with Sam. He'd tried very hard not to snap, and had even tried to be a little more cooperative, but he couldn't help but wonder if he'd said something, or done something that had angered or hurt her without even realizing it. It wouldn't have been the first time. She would have told him, though. Right? Well... maybe?  
  
"Hey... Sam?"  
  
She looked up, more startled that he was initiating a conversation than by the use of her first name.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Are... are you okay?" He hesitated, knowing that it would have been a prime chance for her to use his own favorite turn of phrase and tell him she was fine, so he elaborated. "You're awfully quiet. Did I do something?"  
  
"No, you didn't do anything, Colonel," Carter told him. "I was just... thinking."  
  
"About what?"  
  
Sam hesitated, unsure if she wanted to tell him the truth. He closed up so quickly and completely when she mentioned Daniel, and she didn't want to lose what little ground they'd gained. On the other hand, maybe it was just that she was a coward, and couldn't face that blank look again. She hated being closed off from him when he went distant. It was a lonely, terrible feeling to be so close to him physically and know he was a million miles away in every other way that mattered.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"I... I was thinking about Daniel, Sir," she told him. "About how much I miss him."  
  
She saw the pain in his expression instantly, followed immediately by guilt. It was easy to read his emotions when he wasn't hiding them behind his usual military tough guy façade.  
  
"He..." She shrugged, feeling tears threatening, both at the memory of her lost friend and at the thought of Jack pushing her away yet again. Something she could tell he was about to do. "I miss him..." she repeated, unable to formulate words to say just how much. The tears were there, now, and Sam stood up, her fork clattering to the floor as she backed away from the table. She couldn't lose it in front of him. He blamed himself for so much already that she wasn't going to add to it by bawling in front of him.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sir," Sam whispered, her throat too choked with tears and a mighty lump to be able to say more. She rushed out of the room; poise and composure completely shot to hell, and scurried down the hall to her room. She managed to get the door closed before the first sob escaped, but by the time she'd made it to the bed and a pillow to hold she had broken into tears that she couldn't stop. 


	18. Revelations

O'Neill stared at the place Sam had vacated so abruptly, shocked. Not by her tears, but by the fact that he hadn't noticed before just then how much pain she was feeling. Had he really been that blind? So consumed in his own grief that he'd managed to ignore the people around him? What the hell was wrong with him? He was her commanding officer – her friend – and he'd left her to deal alone with something that she should never have had to deal with anyways. And then to make matters worse, he'd added to her hurts by burdening her with his own.  
  
"She's tough, Jack, remember?"  
  
He looked over and saw Daniel standing near the kitchen entrance, his arms folded and that same look on his face that he always wore when he was right and he knew it.  
  
"Shut up Daniel," Jack said, pushing his chair back and standing up. He didn't need his imagination to tell him what to do this time.  
  
He walked to the guest room, and hesitated outside the closed door. Muffled sobs that were heart-wrenching enough were made even more so by the fact that he had no idea how many other times she'd cried alone. Times that he should have been with her. Jack opened the door without knocking, and went in. Carter was sitting in the middle of the bed, sobbing into a pillow as though it were the only friend she had. She looked up when the door opened and shook her head, trying to tell him to leave her alone, but Jack had no intention of doing that. He crossed the room quickly and sat on the bed, then gathered her into his arms.  
  
She tried to resist, but he was the stronger of the two, now, and he wasn't going to let her go. He tucked her head under his chin, much the same way she'd held him so recently, and he rocked her gently, holding her closely as she cried.  
  
The front of his t-shirt was drenched by the time her sobs turned into sniffles. Sam didn't move, though, and O'Neill didn't ask her to. He didn't speak at all while he held her, he just gave her the support he should have given her a long time ago. One arm held her close while the other rubbed the back of her neck, loosening muscles that were knotted with tension. He didn't know how long they sat there together, her body finally beginning to relax, her breathing returning to normal as the crushing grief began to ebb into something more manageable.  
  
"I'm sorry," she finally whispered into his shirt.  
  
"Hmmm? For what?"  
  
"I'm supposed to be taking care of you," Sam said, still holding him closely. "Not the other way around."  
  
He shook his head, and put a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her cheeks were smeared. "Let me take care of you for a little bit, okay?" He pressed a soft kiss against her lips, but didn't deepen it. The kiss was for reassurance; nothing more, and he didn't intend to let it become more. Not when she was this vulnerable. He smiled, softly, and she returned it, although her own smile was fairly shaky.  
  
"You're a mess, Carter." He told her, wiping her cheeks with his hand.  
  
"Yes, Sir, I know." She didn't mention he'd been a mess far longer than she had. She didn't need to; they both knew it already. "I'm going to go take a shower, I think." She told him, thinking the hot water would relax the muscles she could feel knotting in her lower back and shoulders. Besides, it might help with the headache she was getting.  
  
"You do that," he whispered, letting her go reluctantly, and watching her every move as she stood up and walked out of the room.  
  
When she came out of the bathroom, wrapped snugly in his bathrobe, she found him sitting in the living room, staring off into nothing. For a moment her heart plummeted, thinking that he'd withdrawn once more, but he looked up when she came into the room, and she saw that the familiar empty look wasn't present.  
  
He stood up when she entered the living room, and went over to her, his brown eyes watching her intently.  
  
"How do you feel?" He asked her.  
  
"I'm fine, Sir. A little tired."  
  
He nodded, unsure what to say. How did one apologize for being selfish and uncaring?  
  
"Want some coffee?"  
  
Sam smiled and shook her head, "No, thanks. I think I'm going to go to bed." She hesitated a moment, waiting to see if he wanted to talk, but he didn't say anything. She had a feeling, though, that he wanted to say something, but he couldn't figure out exactly how to say it. He was quiet, though, and she nodded, as though to tell him that it was okay, they could talk later.  
  
"Good night, Sir."  
  
"Good night, Sam."  
  
He was still standing there long after she walked down the hall and closed the guest room's door behind her. 


	19. Aches and Agonies

Jack didn't go to bed after Carter turned in. He wasn't sleepy; and he didn't want to lie in bed and brood, something that was sure to happen. He poured himself a cup of coffee and carried it into the living room and sat down. Then started brooding.  
  
He thought back over the last couple weeks, the days leading up to Daniel's death, and the days that had followed. God, it hurt to think of it like that. Had he ever realized just how important Daniel had been to him? To his team? Had he ever told him? He wasn't good at sharing his emotions with others. Not the ones that counted, anyways. He was very good at letting people know what he thought of them when they'd done something to anger him. It was just the people he loved that he couldn't speak to. He never had been able to, and he knew it.  
  
"You can always learn to." The familiar voice startled Jack and he jumped, spilling his coffee all over and burning his hand. The colonel yelp, trying to stick his whole hand in his mouth and looked over and glared at Daniel.  
  
"Would you stop doing that?!" Since his mouth was filled with hand, the reprimand wasn't quite as stern as Jack had intended, and Daniel only smiled, and came over to stand closer to his friend.  
  
"I'm going to stop, Jack. At least for a little while. I've got a few things I have to go... do."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Don't ask, Jack. You really don't want to know." Daniel smiled sadly, and Jack felt a lump welling up inside his throat. So many things left unsaid. Things he should have told Daniel. Things he'd never have a chance to tell him, now. He tried to say something, but even though he opened his mouth, nothing came out past the lump.  
  
"It's hard, I know," Daniel said to him, as though he understood what Jack was trying to do. "Harder for some than others, and it must seem impossible for you. But you've done the impossible before, Jack. And you can do it again." He looked pointedly down the hall towards the guest room, and Jack followed his gaze. When he turned back, Daniel was gone and a slight, cold breeze lifted his hair for just a moment before it was gone.  
  
Jack didn't wonder how his imagination had made a breeze. He didn't worry about cleaning up the spilled cup of coffee, either. He stood up and walked down the hall, drying his hand on his sweats as he made his way to the door to Sam's room. He hesitated, despite his resolve, and almost turned around to go. He could tell her in the morning. No reason to wake her up. But despite the thoughts, his hand was already pushing open the door. Quietly, he walked across the room, and sat on the edge of her bed, watching her, and debating once more whether to go or not.  
  
She took the choice away from him. Stirring in her sleep, she rolled over towards him, and her hand brushed against his leg. The unfamiliar contact woke her a little, and the sight of him sitting there in the near dark next to her woke her completely. She sat up, noticing the troubled look on his face, and the uncertainty in his eyes.  
  
"You okay?" She asked, reaching out and touching his shoulder.  
  
Jack shook his head, feeling the prickle of tears threatening.  
  
Sam felt a flare of hope that maybe... just maybe...  
  
"Want to talk about it, Jack?" She whispered.  
  
"I miss him, too, Sam," He said, his head and shoulders bowing under the weight of sudden grief finally being allowed to materialize. He closed his eyes and didn't see when Carter moved, but he felt her put her arms around him and pull him closer.  
  
"I just want him back," Jack told her, burying his face against her. "I want to tell him everything I should have... I want him back, Sam..."  
  
"I know," Sam murmured, rocking him as he began to cry, his body shaking with the release of weeks of guilt and agony. "I want him back, too, Jack. I wish I could bring him back for you."  
  
She continued to talk to him, knowing from personal experience that he wasn't going to be able to speak to her anytime soon as hard as he was crying. She held him tightly, and he clung to her, seeking solace where he'd never have thought there could be any. After minutes, or hours, sobs turned to sniffles, but still he held her, and she still continued to comfort him. When she thought he might be able to speak again, Sam went a little further, using the fact that he was as vulnerable as he ever was going to be, and thus most willing to listen to her.  
  
"You know his death wasn't your fault, don't you?"  
  
"I failed him, Sam," he croaked out. "I'm supposed to bring you guys home safe, and I didn't..."  
  
"It wasn't you," She said firmly, stroking his head and trying to make him believe her. "You know there was nothing you could have done. There wasn't anything anyone could have done."  
  
"I let him go... I told Jacob to stop..." That was what hurt the most. Jack had, in the end, made the decision to do what Daniel had asked him to, and he was dead because of it. Jacob might have been able to heal him if Jack hadn't listened to Daniel and let him go.  
  
"You did what he asked, Sir," she told him. "He wanted to go." Sam was crying, too, now and her tears were mingling with Jack's as she held him tightly. "He was hurting, and you made a decision I never could have made. I know it hurts, but you did the right thing."  
  
He didn't say anything, but Sam knew he was listening to her. She didn't know if he believed what she was saying, but he was thinking it through, and that was as much as she could ask for. When he started sobbing again, Sam was ready for it, and she tightened her grip even more, more than willing to give him the support and love he needed as long as he needed it.  
  
** ~~~ **  
  
Sorry it took so long to get this one out, my schedule was a little hairy yesterday and today. I should finish this tonight! Thanks for the reviews, keep them coming please! 


	20. Breakthroughs

"Jack?"  
  
Carter shifted slightly, trying to get a little more comfortable. O'Neill had cried himself into an exhausted doze a couple hours earlier, and she'd held him tenderly, knowing full well that now that he'd allowed himself to cry for his friend he'd be able to start to get over it. Or at least be able to deal with it without falling back into the melancholy that had been so potentially deadly. The position they were in was awkward, though, and her muscles were beyond sore, and she'd ignored it for as long as she could, but she had to wake him and get him to move. At least a little.  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"Wake up for a second, will you?"  
  
He opened his eyes and turned his head up to look at her, looking like a sleepy child just up from a nap, and Sam cupped his cheek with the palm of her hand, smiling gently down at him to let him know before asking that nothing was wrong.  
  
"My leg is asleep, Colonel," She told him, "Do you mind if we get a little more comfortable?"  
  
He came awake "God, Carter, I'm sorry." He lifted himself up so she could move her right leg out from under him, and sat up next to her. "You okay?"  
  
"It's just a cramp," She said, rubbing the limb lightly to get circulation going again. "How about you? Feeling any better?"  
  
Jack took hold of Sam's leg and draped it over his lap, moving her hand away to knead the stiff muscles himself. He was quiet for a moment, focusing on what he was doing, and taking an internal stock of how he truly felt. The pain was still there, but it felt as though a great burden had been lifted from him, and the debilitating grief that had plagued his every thought now seemed far more manageable.  
  
"Yeah, Sam," he said softly. "I do." He looked up from her leg and into her eyes, and she was relieved to see that his expression wasn't bleak any more. "Thanks to you." His hands stilled on her leg as he tried to figure out how to say what else he wanted to say. There was still unfinished business between the two of them, and Jack wasn't going to let it slide another day. There was no room in his life at that moment for any more regrets than he already had.  
  
"Hey, Sam..." He hesitated, and Carter saw the first sign of the old O'Neill when he got that look on his face that he normally had when she was trying to explain something incredibly complicated. The one that he wore when he was trying to figure something out that was beyond him. It had always been an endearing look; one that Sam treasured so much she'd sometimes go out of her way to confuse him just to see it.  
  
"Hmmm?" She wondered what had him so perplexed.  
  
"Do you... um..." He hesitated again, unsure of what to say, and how to say it.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Um... you and I...? Where... Wha-..." He stopped and took a deep breath, then tried again, this time attempting to sound a little less like an idiot. "If there weren't regulations, do you think that... you know, we'd be..."  
  
Sam blushed slightly, well remembering their kisses of the past days, and the private feelings she'd always held for him. Feelings that she knew he shared.  
  
"I'm sure of it, Sir," she told him, wondering what had prompted him to ask that particular question just then. Jack nodded, as though she'd answered some other question that he hadn't voiced, and he moved out from under her leg to sit closer to her. He looked about as uncomfortable as she'd ever seen him, but it couldn't have been the position, and Sam wondered what was wrong with him.  
  
He took her hand in his and looked down at it, remembering how gentle her touch had been. He had to let her know what he felt, even if it changed everything between them. She needed to know. Just as Daniel should have known. If something ever happened to him – or to her – he didn't want there to ever be a moment's doubt about how he felt.  
  
"Sam..."  
  
"Jack? What's wrong?" There was real concern in her voice, and he looked up into her blue eyes. Eyes that he could so easily just stare at all day.  
  
"Sam... Iloveyou." It came out in such a rush that they all sounded like one word, and Jack mentally swore and tried again, a little slower. "I love you. I want to be with you, and I don't care about the regulations." He looked back down at her hand, unable to meet her gaze in case she didn't quite feel the same way about him. This was going to be said, though. No matter what. "I just want you to know that."  
  
Carter was floored. Simply and utterly stunned at his announcement. She wasn't surprised that he had feelings for her; she'd known that for a long time, but she couldn't believe that he'd just opened up like that to her. If she'd thought he'd been vulnerable before, it was nothing to what he'd just done willingly.  
  
"Sir..."  
  
"No, Sam... Jack." His brown eyes were pleading for her to understand, and suddenly she did. He was telling her exactly what he felt, in case something like what had happened to Daniel ever happened again. To him. He didn't want her to have to wonder what might have been had he been more open with her about his feelings.  
  
"Jack." Sam said, smiling as she took her hand and pressed it against his chest, feeling his heart beating. How could she ever say no to something she wanted so badly? Something he was offering her without reservation? "Are you sure? Regulations –"  
  
"I know, Sam, and I don't care. I'm not going to let anything hold us back. Or anyone. Especially myself. If you love me, and I love you, then we'll find a way around the regulations. I swear to you."  
  
She smiled and he knew it was his answer. The answer to a question he should have asked her so many years before, but was too afraid of. The question that an echo of a friend had seen long before Jack himself had found a way to even voice it, even to himself. A question that she'd been waiting a lifetime to answer.  
  
He returned the smile, and leaned over and kissed her. A kiss full of the promise that whatever might come in their future, she'd never have to face it without someone beside her who she knew loved her.  
  
~*~  
  
"Sam?"  
  
It was much later, and Sam smiled to hear the voice on the other end of the phone.  
  
"Janet. Hi."  
  
"I was just calling to see how everything was going. How is he doing?"  
  
Carter looked beside her at the man who was sleeping next to her, his arm draped over her bare belly, and one leg tangled with her own. Her free hand reached out and pulled the blankets up over him, and she smiled when he snuggled closer to her, the hand caressing her even while he slept.  
  
"He's fine, Janet," Sam said, never more certain about anything in her life. "We're both fine."  
  
The End 


End file.
